


La Vita Nuova

by senshi76



Category: Christine and the Queens
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:21:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23049241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/senshi76/pseuds/senshi76
Summary: Based on the Christine and the Queens EP/video "La Vita Nuova"
Kudos: 1





	La Vita Nuova

It’s sunrise. Cold and clear, the air up here is crisp. _ *****_ _ **Up here...***_ I’ve awakened on a rooftop. At the moment, I don’t remember where I came from or how I got here. All I know is I have a headache, fading slowly; and my heart feels heavy. I’m longing. Melancholy.

  
  
_ ***wordless whispers in my ears*** _

I think I’m walking along the roof of this place—it’s high—but I have very little control over my body’s movements. I’m dancing. Jerky but calculated movements, as natural as the intake and release of my breaths.

He’s behind me. I don’t see him. I feel him. The headache throbs back to life, and I raise my hands to my head. No, one hand. The other is his. He caresses me, then pulls me back against him, both of his hands covering my gasp. Panic takes me. I wrench myself free.

I run.

I stop short, my body again outside my control as it resumes its dance. My eyes glance around, but he’s gone. My mouth is open in a broad smile. Unexplained euphoria. Freedom? No, an illusion; but I laugh anyway. It echoes off the rooftop as my breathing calms, and peace takes my spirit.

I see the stairs to the peak of the roof and begin to climb. I know he’s there, waiting for me. I approach where he sits and recline next to him, my head in his lap. I expect him to be surprised, but he shows no sign of it. He bends over me, his nose touching mine as he caresses my face. His eyes are blood red as he looks into mine. I allow him to breathe me in for a moment before I rise. I step a few paces back and offer my hand to him, silently bidding him to come with me. He remains where he is.

I’m falling.

I’m caught by familiar hands. _***I don’t know you.***_ We aren’t on the rooftop. My friends _*****_ _ **You stink of him.***_ support me, smiling as they bring me back to my feet. I’ve reawakened. My surroundings are a dance practice studio, mirrored walls around the perimeter. I stretch my arms and back, relishing the feeling. I know this place. This is like home. I smile at the faces around me as they move similarly, loosening lean muscles in clothing made to move with them. As if of one mind, our dance begins, our movements perfectly synchronized.

I feel so free. The control is mine. They’ve echoed my motions before I’ve completed the thought. I remember my power and smile at my reflection in the mirror. This is my world. They lift me as if in celebration. We’ve done this a million times before. _* **I’ve never known you.** *_ A slow rotation, then I’m lowered easily to my feet.

The routine is a triumph. We laugh and smile together; some applaud. Others begin to improvise a spastic dance to release excess energy, leading to more laughter and cheers. Without a word or a count, we return to our places in the center of the room and begin the dance again.

I’m lifted by familiar hands. It’s too early. My head is thrown back, and I see him. One of these dancers but not. He caresses my face; I look into his red eyes. I’m lowered to the ground again, but the dancers don’t release me. They’re holding me in place, baring their teeth. He circles us, eyes on me, baring his fangs in an arrogant smile. _***They are mine,***_ his eyes tell me.

I’m shoved to the floor, flat on my back, then dragged to the center of the room. I push away the hands and struggle to my feet.

I run.

So many hands grabbing at me. They catch me, and the lights go out.

In darkness, caressed by familiar hands. _***None of them are people.***_ My eyes flutter shut, my brain overwhelmed by the orgy of sensations. Hands everywhere on my body, my face, my mouth, my hair. Warm hands. _***All warm but his.***_ Tongues tasting my neck and collarbones. Hot euphoria.

I smell his scent a moment before his fangs pierce my neck. I scream. A warm trickle of blood runs down my chest and is smeared across my skin by the suffocating hands.

Now I’m free.

The lights are on.

My head throbs with my heartbeat. I have to remember how to breathe. My hand touches where I was bitten and comes back clean. The dancers have dispersed. _***If they were ever really there at all.***_

He’s in my head. Mind games. _The arrogant prick._ I squeeze my eyes shut and try to calm myself.

When I open them, the room is dark again. Dark, but for a single glaring light shining on me. A spotlight. I’m on a stage. I’m meant to perform. I’m sitting at a piano. My fingers depress a chord on the instrument, making it chime and echo through the theater. I sing, but no sound comes. My eyes glance up, and I see a microphone suspended on a pole in front of me, held by a man I don’t know.

I lift my chin and begin to sing again, directing my voice towards the microphone; and it rings loud and clear through the room. I sing, not thinking about the words, hearing my mouth form a song of longing and sadness. The man holding the microphone slowly begins to move away, and my voice begins to fade.

My song needs to be heard. It’s the only way to make him come to me. I stand, climbing onto the piano to allow my voice to follow the microphone. I reach out to it as if bidding it to come closer to me. _***My voice must reach him if...***_

The theater is empty, but I continue to follow the microphone. The man holding it seems to be moving now at my pace instead of trying to remove my voice. We’re in a dance together, though held beyond arm’s length.

The theater is empty, but the power of past songs urges me to sing louder. The spirits of the performances held here in decades past pierce my soul and lift my voice higher as tears prick at my eyes. I’m free and loud and strong. I’m...

...falling…

Falling to the floor, my voice fading as my song ends. His shadow reaches me first, horns blocking the spotlight. He’s watching from the edge of the stage upon which I’m lying. His red eyes are concerned. My song reached him, and he has reached me.

He reaches a hand to me. I don’t return the gesture, merely looking up at him. His hand retracts, and his expression is now a mixture of concern and confusion with a touch of fear as he backs away from the edge of the stage. I remain motionless. The lights go out, and darkness overwhelms us again.

I hear my own voice in my brain.

_***NADA** *_

My eyes fly open; my lungs draw in a breath as if it were their first. Heavy chandeliers dangle above me. Candles illuminate them. I’m cold on the hardwood floor. My muscles are stiff, and I struggle to my feet.

He’s here. I feel him. I can’t see him. He’s calling to me. I must go to him. It's time.

I run.

Angels above me, their eyes watching, seeing, judging. I’m running, gasping for breath against my corset’s restricting steel.

These halls are empty. I run, my bare feet flying down marble staircases, one after the other. The angels watch.

These rooms are cold in spite of the candles in their chandeliers. The warm gold colors, the painted angels, judging.

I follow the marble staircases to darkness. Running under the stage. No one sees this part of the theater. There’s no gold here. No warmth.

He’s here.

Lying on the ground, his chest barely moves with shallow breaths. _***My prey.***_ My steps slow as I approach him, barely breathing myself. He’s dying.

I pull him into my lap, cradling his head in my hand. “You shouldn’t have come,” I tell him, my voice a whisper. My free hand hovers above his face, barely a centimeter away from touching his skin. His red eyes are locked onto mine, wide and helpless. I focus my energy into my fingertips, and blood begins to run from his eyes.

“I told you not to find me,” I say, licking my lips as I continue to draw the blood from him, an eon's worth of instincts guiding my power. His eyes are now a dark brown _***once human***_ , and he tries but fails to speak.

I draw my hand away from his face, high into the air; and the blood continues to pour. His skin is turning a sickly gray color, and my fingers are tingling. “I warned you...this place is **_mine_.” **His blood is cascading over the hand behind his head now, and he takes one last labored breath. “I told you, you should never have come back.”

My eyes shut as my free hand drops to my mouth. I can taste him on me. In me. He falls, dead.

I am alive, the force of his life **_*his heart*_** beating in me.

He wanted me for his own, but I’ve taken him instead.

Deep down in the part of my consciousness to which I try to deny the light of day, however…

_***It’s not enough.*** _

_***It will never be enough.** *_

Those damned voices just won’t leave me alone. So many whispers. _***Just leave me alone.***_

They’re all so hungry. _***I just want to be alone.***_

So thirsty. _***Please...***_

They’re always with me. My constantly tortured, faceless, nameless companions of centuries. _***Just a moment of peace...***_

I’m walking with him draped over my shoulder, his feet dragging behind me. He’s heavy, but I’m strong. So much stronger than I appear.

I put tears in my eyes and take him into the ballroom. With faux fatigue, I collapse to the floor, drawing the attention of _***his***_. His childer. The family he created _***took***_ for himself.

They look; and they see me, just as I want them to see me. Me, the one he wanted for so long. The one he believed to be weak to his whims. The one they believed he would take to join their family.

They see me, holding their sire in my lap; and I feign anguish at his passing. _***The fools.***_ They must believe I let him take me, that he chose me as he planned, that he turned his life to me willingly and with love.

_***The king is dead. Long live the queen.** *_

They take him from me and elevate him on many hands. As they move him through the room, passing him along to pay respects, I begin to sing. My voice rings clear and true; and to my song, they celebrate their sire. I can feel them all now.

They’re mine.

I rise, their eyes all on me, their wills mine to control as I wish. I move; they follow. They sense him in me and obey. Grief melts into elation. His childer dance, their bodies undulating with joy and passion to the sound of my voice.

Breaking through my triumph, I hear a single voice challenging my own. My vision blurs for a split second, then I see through a curtain of red.

_***Her** *_

His treasure. The enchantress he took first. _***She took him.***_ The ice of her eyes meets the fire in mine _ ***his***_ , blue touching red. The beings around me move to her song. _***When did I stop singing?***_

_***When did I stop dancing?** *_

My stillness does not dissuade her. My breath comes to me heavily. She’s the last defense. _***So you’re not a complete fool after all, Felix.***_ She guards his childer from me. An attempt to stifle my power over this city. I gather my resolve and answer her voice with my own, tearing my mind free from her spell. She was once his; now I’ll take her for my own.

I move through the crowd of people to approach her, my fingers skating across the dancing bodies as I pass. When my touch leaves them, the dancers freeze in their poses, statues of flesh, leaving no distractions between me and the woman in front of me.

With a soft chuckle, I send out a psychic command; and control of the human _***Are you sure they are?***_ puppets is returned to me. We move as if with one mind, one body. The woman is unbothered and approaches me boldly while continuing to sing her siren’s song. Our bodies are pressed together, the childer surrounding us with their dance.

We’re embracing, our hands unsatisfied and constantly taking more of each other. The fire and ice of our eyes meet again, and thunder explodes in my veins.

_***ENOUGH** * _   
  
_ * **END THIS** * _

I’m behind her, my arms wrapped around her body. My tongue runs up her neck, bared to me willingly. Gripping her tightly, I bite.

_***Just as he did to me.** *_

I take her.

_***Just as he did to me.** *_

I drink.

_***Just as he did to me.** *_

She falls. They all fall. Her blood rushes through me, orgasmic and wild. The last of his blood is mine.

His legacy.

Him.

_***Mine.** *_

My body moves to silent music, triumphant and powerful, my mind consumed by my victory. His toys, his puppets, his creations are all reaching for me, their motions jerking, lacking control, seizures wracking their bodies.

I spin, my eyes wide, my teeth bared. Rage boils my blood, burning out my mind, blurring my logic, muddying my control.

I hate the sight of them.

I don’t want them.

I don’t _* **need** *_ these things of his.

I survive alone. **_*Are you sure about that?*_**

The bodies writhe around me, and I am disgusted.

My tongue runs over my fangs, my eyes trying to blink away the red curtain. My hands reach to grasp my hair and find horns, fingers trailing over the ridges. _***Just like his.***_

_***DIE** *_

The bodies stop.

I live.

The whispers continue. His voice has joined them.

I need to move on.


End file.
